


It Tastes Like Magic

by TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard/pseuds/TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard
Summary: Christmas magic, size Venti!
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Kim Seungmin/Yang Jeongin | I.N
Comments: 14
Kudos: 108
Collections: SKZ Secret Santa 2020





	It Tastes Like Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fullsunrises](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullsunrises/gifts).



> Written for the SKZ Secret Santa! Thank you @stayfanevents for hosting this!

If there’s one thing Hyunjin’s good at, it’s adding Christmas Magic to the coffee he brews.

No. This isn’t Starbucks. His Christmas Magic isn’t an extra pump of peppermint or a double shot of cocoa or even sticking a candy cane through the lid like it’s a straw. Well, there  _ are _ those things as well, but Hwang Hyunjin has actual Christmas Magic. The kind film directors make feel-good comfort movies about. The kind of magic that puts thousands of golden sparkles in the air. The kind that brings robot toys to life. The kind of magic where he just points a finger and he adds a little razzle dazzle to any Christmas tree. The kind that makes children stop and stare and go ‘whoaaa cooool’ while their parents ask if Hyunjin’s one of Santa’s helpers. (He’s not. Fortunately.) The kind of magic that fills the coffee shop’s tip jar to the brim almost every night which all of Hyunjin’s coworkers greatly appreciate.

He’s pretty sure he wasn’t born with such gifts but he also can’t think back to a time he did not have them.

Every year, it’s the same. From sunrise on December 1st to sunset on December 25th, Christmas Magic floats through his veins like marshmallows float through hot chocolate. And if such powers brings a smile to even one person’s face, who is he to question it?

It’s a chilly December night, a week or so ahead of Christmas, and it’s almost closing time. The shop has been quiet the past hour and a half, with the heat turned up high and jazz renditions of Christmas songs buzzing through the speakers, but the shop had a rush of foot traffic in the last fifteen minutes leading up to 9PM. Jisung sweeps the coffee shop floor, getting all of those pesky pine needles (and the shards of one broken ornament) up off the tile because Jaebum, the owner, refuses to put artificial trees in his shop. There’s only two customers left waiting for their drinks and Hyunjin hopes he’ll be able to finish cleaning up, close up shop and get home tonight before it starts snowing.

“What’s in this one,” Jeongin asks, lifting his coffee cup up to the light as if he can see through it to the contents inside. He can’t. Jeongin is a shop regular, as his apartment is right at the end of the block, and he looks so cute tonight all bundled up in his lumberjack plaid jacket and fuzzy hat. “What did you add to my drink this time?”

The question is aimed at Hyunjin but it’s Seungmin who answers as he counts up the cash in the till. “Weren’t you watching? A little bit of fairy dust, some condensed imagination and some gingerbread man tears.”

“Happy tears, of course,” Hyunjin clarifies before Jeongin thinks he tortures gingerbread people for coffee ingredients. “Given voluntarily.” He flashes a smile.

Jeongin nods thoughtfully as he takes a sip of his drink. He closes his eyes for a few seconds to savor the taste, then he gasps in pleasant surprise as the flavor hits. It should be a warm, rich flavor combination, Hyunjin thinks. Sweet like maple syrup. An aftertaste of cinnamon from the fairy dust. Jeongin opens his eyes and stares up at Hyunjin with the biggest, prettiest smile. “What does this one do?”

Hyunjin snaps the lid down on the coffee he’s just finished pouring. “That one gives you a burst of inspiration and focus.”

Seungmin happily chirps, “For artists!”

Jeongin’s smile widens further and his dimples dent his cheeks. “Wow. I should get home to my sketchbook, then.”

“Let us know how it goes,” Hyunjin says. “I’m sure you’ll be by tomorrow, right?”

“Yup!” Jeongin waves farewell and then steps across the tile floor to the door, where Jisung lets him out into the frigid, foggy night.

Seungmin sighs dreamily and watches Jeongin cross the street through the shop’s glass windows. All without losing count of the coins he drops off of his palm and back into the cash register. “Isn’t he darling?”

“Just ask him out already,” Hyunjin grunts. 

“But he’s so busy with school,” Seungmin whines. He finishes counting the coins, slams the drawer shut and taps in the cash total. The register dings and informs him with a prompt on the screen that the drawer is perfectly balanced. “He’s trying to be an  _ architect _ , you know. Those guys never rest.”

“I do know he’s an architect. Someone close to me tells me that at least once a shift.” Hyunjin playfully nudges Seungmin in the side with his elbow. “Now help me rinse out the blenders.”

Someone on the other side of the counter gently clears their throat.

Their last customer. He nearly forgot.

Hyunjin approaches the counter and sets down the drink he’s just made. “For you, Minho.” He slides the cup across to another shop regular.

Minho’s dark hair hangs in his eyes and although his scarf is thick and colorful and wrapped snugly around his throat, his face—particularly his nose—is still Rudolph red from the chilly temperatures outdoors. Minho peels his wooly gloves off of his hands and stuffs them into his trench coat pocket. His fingers are pretty and slender. “Thanks, Hyunjin. As always.” He smiles shyly, unable to meet Hyunjin’s gaze. He reaches out and wraps a hand around the steaming cup of coffee and their fingers brush. Hyunjin feels a spark, or something like it, and draws back hurriedly. Minho merely lifts the cup towards his face as if to fight away the wintry chill in his bones. He breathes in deep. “What’s in this one?”

Hyunjin gives him a smile but he’s not sure it matters since Minho can’t seem to look up at him. “Nothing fancy,” he admits. “Just some melted sugar plums. A little sprinkle of goodwill to balance out the flavor. Some identical snowflakes, the rare little things. Okay. Maybe it  _ is _ a little fancy.”

“For me?” Minho asks, genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, of course,” Hyunjin responds. “You tend to like bitter flavor notes.”  _ And maybe you deserve something a little luxurious _ , he adds in the privacy of his own head.

Minho takes a sip. Tentative. Then he blows across the lid to cool it a bit more before taking a second sip. He hums and then takes a third sip. And then he goes for a long, hearty gulp as if he can’t get enough. He looks up at Hyunjin, then. “It’s delicious. What does it do?”

“Check your pockets,” Hyunjin tells him, being purposefully cryptic.

From over by the machinery, Seungmin snickers in delight.

Confused, and maybe a tad unsettled, Minho reaches a hand into his trench coat pocket. 

Hyunjin watches in amusement as Minho’s face morphs from apprehension to confusion to anticipation. 

Minho pulls out one of his gloves. At first glance, it looks no different from how it did when he shoved it in there, but given a second look, it bulges oddly. As if something is in it. Minho sets down his coffee cup on the counter so that he can use both hands to tug open his glove and reach inside it. When he pulls his hand free, he’s gripping a fistful of foil-wrapped candy.

Peppermints.

His favorites.

The grin on his face and the bubbly laugh that escapes him is worth Hyunjin closing up shop a little late tonight. 

❆

It has been cloudy the past few days, so when the sun peeks out through a murky gray sky the next afternoon, Hyunjin pays more attention to it than usual. Light floods the small coffee shop with a pleasant, cozy heat. It touches his skin and makes him want to wrap up in fleece blankets and snuggle in front of a wood-burning fireplace. Bright sunlight streams in through the shop’s big windows and the warm glow sparkles and dances off of the heaps of snow piled up outside, off of the ornaments on the Christmas trees, off of the decorations hanging from the walls and, most importantly, the sunlight bounces off of Minho’s dark brown hair as he swings open the shop door and walks inside.

The jingle bells above the door sound no different this time than all of the other times a customer has entered, but for some reason, this is the one time Hyunjin looks up from where he’s rearranging the cakes on the shelf. He lets out a tiny gasp and watches as Minho enters the building in his big jacket with faux-fur on the hood.

Minho looks magnificent. Not that he isn’t always handsome, but there’s something about him today—specifically—that draws Hyunjin’s focus, even from across the shop. There’s just something about Minho that makes Hyunjin’s heart feel like it’s full of marshmallows. It’s something that makes him stare in wonder.

Seungmin weasels his way into Hyunjin’s field of view. He puts two fingers on Hyunjin’s chin and applies pressure to make Hyunjin snap his mouth shut. “Get your jaw off of the floor,” he teases.

Hyunjin swats his friend’s hand away. “But doesn’t he look different?” He has to whisper it so that they won’t be overheard. “Isn’t he… sparkling?” Because there’s no way it’s normal. Minho twinkles like the angel that sits at the tip top of the Christmas tree. He shines like the light-up snowflakes that dangle from the ceiling. Hyunjin forces himself to look away before he’s caught staring. “Don’t you see it too?”

Seungmin shrugs and then shoves his hands into his apron pockets. “I’m not the one who pays that much attention to him.” And then he laughs and walks away.

Hyunjin doesn’t even have the time to fire a prickly joke at his friend’s back before Minho walks up to the counter as he peels off his wooly gloves. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Hyunjin returns. Then he more fully snaps himself out of his stupor. He knows exactly what Minho wants, down to the exact number of shots of espresso, but he asks anyway, “What can I get you?”

“A latte,” Minho says, which is different from his usual order.

Different enough that Hyunjin forgets what he should ask next for several seconds. “For here or to go?” Hyunjin taps in the order into the register and brings up the price.

“For here,” Minho states. That’s also different from what he usually gets, as he’s usually too busy to sit and drink. Then, Minho asks, “Can you do some of that cute artwork? With the milk?”

“Latte art? What would you like?”

“You decide.” Minho smiles at him, though it’s obvious from how far back he pulls his lips away from his teeth that it’s nervousness and mild panic that fuels his grin, not joy. But why would Minho of all people be nervous about putting in his order?

“Coming right up,” says Hyunjin. “Have a seat and I’ll bring it out to you.” Then he recites the price of the drink. Money exchanges hands. Their fingers brush. Not for long but for long enough that Hyunjin takes notice, looks down and briefly admires how nicely filed Minho keeps his nails. A little bit of Hyunjin’s Christmas Magic must come loose with the contact because as he drops the coins into the register’s drawer, they all seem to sparkle like diamonds and ring like sleigh bells.

Hyunjin prepares the latte.

He preps the machine, waits for the hum and then drips rich espresso into the mug. 

Knowing that people come here for his magic, for his little extra zing, he goes to his shelf full of ingredients, humming along to the smooth acoustic rendition of All I Want For Christmas Is You coming in over the scratchy radio speakers. He trails a finger along the edge of the shelf. He occasionally flicks a labeled jar or wooden box as he plans things through. He wants a simple flavor enhancer. Something basic that won’t overpower. That won’t over-sweeten. Hyunjin snaps his fingers as it comes to him. He decides on powdered sugar snow (from the North Pole!) and ground-up pine needles from the legendary First Christmas tree. With a spoon, he mixes the ingredients into the espresso until there are so many golden sparkles floating through it that it almost makes him sneeze.

There’s just something about Minho that makes him want to use all of his rare, only-have-a-handful-of-these-left ingredients. But Minho’s worth it. Making Minho smile is worth it. Spreading such joy and cheer is worth it.

With the basics taken care of, Hyunjin continues. 

He pulls the lever for the steamed milk, pours it into the mug slowly so that the milk has time to settle to the bottom and gives the design a place to sit. The actual latte art comes next. He switches out the big machine for a smaller and easier to handle jug and then gets to work. It’s more technical than artistic, he thinks, as the majority of the task is memorizing the angles to tilt the mug as he rotates it beneath the spout of the jug. For several seconds, the milk’s thick foam doesn’t look like much of anything at all, but after turning the mug with skillful fingers as the milk pours in, the shapes solidify into a twig of mistletoe.

He sets the mug down on a small, matching saucer and carries it out from behind the counter.

The shop is busy this time of day. Seungmin steps from table to table to table, a small pair of silver tongs in his hand, offering cubes of sugar to anyone who wants some. There’s a low murmur of conversation and laughter in the room that almost completely drones out the festive music. The air sits sweetly heavy in the lungs with the scent of eggnog and freshly brewed coffee and oven-warmed sweetcakes and spiced apple slices. 

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t think he looks particularly lost or confused, but Jisung seems to know who he’s looking for anyway. The younger man pauses in his sweeping and jerks his head towards the shop’s front corner, right beneath all the big windows, right next to the big tree, and Hyunjin turns his head to spot Minho sitting at the small table there. He looks small and delicate, spun from sugar. His hair glitters like it’s made of tinsel. Like it’s made of icicles. Like he’s a snow fairy. Which is impossible because Yongbok is a snow fairy and you can tell just by looking at them that they are a snow fairy. No doubt about it.

But there  _ is _ doubt with Minho. Just a smidgen.

Hyunjin sits the saucer down on the table in front of Minho. “One latte,” he announces.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Minho chants, nervousness only making him stutter a little bit. He wraps his pretty hands around the mug and lifts it to his mouth. He sniffs it first and then, careful not to disturb the latte art, he takes a careful sip. He hums in appreciation as his eyelashes briefly flutter. “It’s lovely,” he says, looking up at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin says, “Thanks.” He kind of hates that Minho took such a gingerly sip that there’s not even a moustache of milk foam for him to carefully wipe away. Hyunjin struggles to find another way to extend their conversation before things get awkward and weird. “I think you have something in your hair.”

Minho doesn’t even need to lift a hand. “I was decorating my tree today,” he says. Just saying that must remind him of something silly because he chuckles and visibly relaxes, like that was all he needed to open up a little. “It’s glitter from the ornaments. I didn’t realize how easily the stuff flakes off.” He reaches up a hand and tugs back the collar of his jacket to reveal that the cable-knit sweater he’s wearing beneath it is covered in an equally copious amount of silver glitter.

“You look magical,” says Hyunjin. As in he looks beautiful. Perfect. Sweet enough to eat.

“You also look magical,” Minho says. Then he clears his throat and backpedals, like he knows he’s said something odd. “I mean… I guess… Well, that’s because you are. Magical, I mean.”

Hyunjin nods. “Just a little.” He would have kept standing there, staring, completely mesmerized by the smile Minho shoots him, but Jaebum shouts his name from across the shop. “I’ve got to get back to work,” he states and then turns to leave.

“See you later,” Minho sings out after him. Hyunjin almost doesn’t hear Minho squeakily add, “Hopefully.”

❆

Changbin comes in later that evening. 

He’s one of Santa’s helpers. Like, genuinely. 

He works in Santa’s workshop along with all of the other Changbins. There’s dozens of them. Hundreds of them, even. Maybe even thousands of Changbins.

They are all identical. They all have the same mind. But they have numerous bodies.

It makes the toy-making process easier, Changbin had told him once, because if Santa gives orders to one, he’s technically giving an order to them all. 

And just like all of the Changbins know what to build or make or paint, just like they all know what Santa expects of them, what a world full of children and children-at-heart expect of them, all of the Changbins know that this particular Changbin likes to leave the North Pole every couple of days to have a sip of Hyunjin’s coffee.

“Here you go,” Hyunjin says, sliding the cup across the counter towards him.

Changbin lifts the cup, pops open the lid and gives the dark liquid inside a sniff. “What’s in this one?”

“Snow fairy freckles,” Hyunjin recites, “and Nutcracker’s determination.”

Changbin nods approvingly. He raises the cup to his mouth and takes a deep swig.

Santa’s helper hasn’t asked what it does but Hyunjin tells him anyway. “For energy and encouragement.”

Changbin sighs contentedly and then whispers “thank you” before smiling and turning away from the counter.

If one of the helpers is energized and encouraged, Hyunjin remembers, then all of them are.

❆

Sundown comes so early in the winter.

It’s hardly five in the evening but the sky outside is indigo-dark. Nighttime is thick but the pitch blackness of it is kept at a safe distance by the glow of the city’s Christmas decorations. Trees. Snowmen. Wreaths. Santa’s sleigh and his precious reindeer. Between the fluttering snowflakes and the millions and millions of white tiny Christmas lights that glint like little bitty stars, the night is never truly dark. There is tiny magic everywhere.

Just a few years ago, Hyunjin hated this time of year. He was new to the city. He was unused to the winter cold after so many years spent on the warm southern beaches. Hyunjin never thought he’d find his place in the world considering all of the weird things that he could do, all of the strange things he could collect and knew the purpose of without ever being taught. Then Jaebum had found him. Hired him. 

Even to this day, Hyunjin isn’t entirely sure how Jaebum knew about the Christmas Magic he had or how well it would go if he mixed his talents with coffee. Perhaps Jaebum had a bit of magic himself. Things always seemed to get a little odd when Jaebum rubbed the side of his reddish nose.

But even in those first few months, adjusting was hard. Hyunjin would wake up early to go to university or to work and the sky would be dark. He would get out of classes or off of his shift and the sky would be dark. Like he was at the North Pole where the sun sometimes never rose. (“But sometimes, the sun never _ sets _ ,” Changbin told him once, watching the sky turn pink with twilight. “There are parts of the year where we don’t know darkness at all. And you’d be surprised how many things are so much easier to do at night.”) 

And Hyunjin doesn’t know which he’d prefer, a world with no dawn or a world with no dusk. 

Then he remembers how wondrous Minho looked that afternoon, smiling shyly, eyes alight, hair full of sparkles. 

Yes. Hyunjin would rather have the sun.

❆

Jeongin comes in close to closing time, and he peels his big earmuffs off of his ears when Seungmin signals to him that he’s unnecessarily shouting.

Jeongin is quite cute and charming. Tall with a handsome, modelesque face and sharp eyes that never seem to miss a thing. He’s wonderful. Hyunjin will give him that. It’s easy to see the numerous reasons why Seungmin fell so hard so fast.

Jeongin loosens his scarf and orders his usual drink and then answers Seungmin’s shallow questions about his exams and his plans for the semester break. It’s a stilted, dull conversation that does little to fill the empty, silent night with noise and joy.

Hyunjin is tired enough of watching Seungmin dreamily sigh and stare so hard his eyes go twinkly in the moments Jeongin is looking elsewhere that he decides to do something about it. Something that only he can do. What else is his magic for than to spread a little holiday cheer? When he makes Jeongin’s drink, Hyunjin stirs in a rather large dose of caroler’s song, particularly soprano as it has the fastest reaction speed. It’s a little risky, a little fizzy, but he drops in a snowman’s nose and Jack Frost’s breath to accentuate the candy cane flavor of the drink. Then he puts a finger-sized block of Warm And Fuzzies into the drink and watches in fascination as it dissolves among the syrup and flavoring and whipped cream. It takes a little longer to prepare everything but that just means it turns out a little nicer than it could have if he’d used simpler ingredients. He pops a lid on and hands the drink to Jeongin. The guy only has to take a sip or two before he’s blinking up at Seungmin as if only now seeing him for the first time even though he’s been a regular customer here for weeks. Months. Hyunjin watches with pride as Jeongin’s cheeks flush with color. As Seungmin, none-the-wiser, becomes the center of Jeongin’s attention.

Jeongin had intended to drink his coffee on the way home, as he tends to do on nights after his evening classes, but he is so engrossed in conversation with Seungmin that he’s noisily sucking up the dregs of his drink through the straw before he finally decides to leave.

Five long minutes after Jeongin exits the shop, Seungmin screeches in shock and excitement when he spots something Jeongin left behind on the counter.

“What is it,” Hyunjin asks, cleaning out the mugs and glasses.

Seungmin looks up at him with a wide, dazzling smile. “I think Jeongin left me his number,” he states, waving around the napkin in his hand. “I think he might be interested in me!”

Hyunjin chuckles. “Lucky you.” He returns his attention to his clean-up tasks. “Call him and see.”

And Seungmin screeches all over again. “Maybe,” he cries. “Later! Not now. I can’t do it now.” He takes off running towards the hall.

“Do it tonight,” Hyunjin calls after him.

To that, Seungmin just screeches a third time.

❆

Holly berries are tough to work with. Hyunjin knows this from experience. He’s screwed up countless drinks by misusing the potent holiday berries.

Even sparingly used, the darn things can gunk up a carefully balanced flavor profile and skew the palate towards overly sweet. Holly leaves have the opposite problem and can be shockingly bitter and melt the hair off even the most steel-tongued of beverage drinkers. It is important to use  _ both _ in a beverage, even though that makes balancing the flavor twice as hard. But Hyunjin enjoys challenges of all sorts and he tempers such powerful ingredients by melting in eight sour gumdrops (alternating between red and green, of course), and topping off the concoction with melted snow straight from the doorstep of Santa’s workshop (Changbin guaranteed it.)

It’s an odd, strange set of ingredients to use, yes, but it’s the perfect little bit of zing to add to an already full-of-zing cup of otherwise plain black coffee. “Here you go, Yongbok,” Hyunjin says as he sits the cup down on Yongbok’s table.

“Thanks,” Yongbok says cheerily. When they grin, they show off two rows of disconcertingly pointy teeth. “This is why I come here even though it’s so far from where I live. You always put in exactly what I need without me even having to tell you what it is that I need.” And perhaps it’s because they are magical themselves that they don't need the ingredients explained aloud like most of the shop’s other patrons. “The sour gumdrops will help me stay up all night and the melted snow won’t give me nightmares after. Certainly, you just threw the holly berries in to prove something to yourself.” Yongbok is a little odd-looking at first glance—and even at second glance and third glance—but not just because of their slightly fuzzy moth wings that protrude from their bony back. Yongbok’s hair is white like saltwater ice. Their skin is pale like snow. Even their eyelashes are frosted and a little fluffy like they’ve got clumps of snowflakes looped around their round eyes. Yongbok’s irises are big and pitch black like hardened lumps of coal but Yongbok doesn’t have a naughty bone in their frail body. They’ve only ever been on the Nice List and that status will probably never change. Yongbok’s noticeably more unsettling than your run-of-the-mill sugar plum fairies, but that only adds to their charisma.

“Just glad I can help out,” says Hyunjin.

“Your selflessness will be rewarded,” Yongbok intones.

“I don’t really do this for a reason.”

“Still, Santa’s always watching. Whether you’re asleep or awake, you know.”

Hyunjin’s heard the song. “If I can make people’s lives a little better, I don’t mind if I don’t get presents.”

“You’ll get your presents, Hyunjin.”

This city can get chilly in winter, but Hyunjin knows that it’s still not technically cold enough for a snow fairy to be able to find it habitable. Hyunjin doesn’t know how they do it. He doesn’t know how Yongbok survives. He doesn’t know why Yongbok likes to gulp down strong, steaming hot mugs of black coffee when it very well could  _ melt them _ . Even after Hyunjin’s asked, Yongbok’s answers haven’t really  _ answered _ his questions. Then again, Hyunjin can’t give any satisfying answers to Yongbok’s questions as to why he has such strong Christmas Magic when he’s not an elf and his mother’s never even held hands with Santa, let alone  _ kissed _ him!

So maybe there are tiny little miracles everywhere and it’s not up to either of them to question them but it is up to them, and everyone else for that matter, to  _ believe _ . As long as they keep the spirit of the season going, does it matter how? Or why?

“Well, enjoy your drink,” Hyunjin says. He dips his head and backs away.

“You’re on the Nice List, Hyunjin,” Yongbok shouts after him.

But that’s not a surprise. Changbin already told him that.

Before Hyunjin can even get back behind the counter, Seungmin grips Hyunjin by the arm and pulls him behind one of the shop’s many Christmas trees. “He texted me,” he says, giddy. He waves around his phone in his other hand. “He  _ texted _ me! I know that’s so simple, but still!”

“Good for you, friend,” Hyunjin genuinely encourages him. Seungmin is prone to moodiness, not to a  _ bah humbug! _ or Grinch-like state, but he can be a bit of a dark gray storm cloud. It is quite pleasant to see him so full of energy, so full of cheer. He looks so much better this way. Smiling. His cheeks are flush with color. His eyes twinkle from the multi-colored lights draped across the Christmas tree next to them.

Seungmin announces, “Jeongin said he’s coming by tonight. A little earlier than usual so that we can have some time to talk.”

“He can do that? With classes?”

“It’s just exam prep, he says.” Seungmin forces himself not to squeal. “He can cut out a little early. He’s doing that just for me.”

Hyunjin flicks his bleached hair out of his face with a jerk of his head. “Don’t chicken out and you’ll have this in the bag.”

Seungmin grins at him. He smells like chocolate chips and gingerbread. He smells like everything sweet. Everything good. “Thanks,” he says, “for helping.”

“What did I do?”

Seungmin tilts his head and gives his friend a sharp look. “I’m not silly. I know you added a little…  _ extra _ to his order.” He takes his hand off Hyunjin’s arm to wiggle his fingers around in a flourishing way that Hyunjin has never used to cast his magic.

“Don’t worry. I’m not making him do anything he wasn’t already thinking of doing.”

“I know you’d never do that. That would hurt more than help.”

“Just be yourself, Seungmin. He’s already into you. Has been for a while.”

“And Minho is into you,” Seungmin says. “Has been for a while.”

That surprises a laugh out of Hyunjin. “You’re kidding.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” A mischievous little look darts through Seungmin’s eyes as he grins. “Let me help you the way you helped me.” Then he skips off, singing about donning gay apparel.

❆

Hyunjin doesn’t see Minho again until the next evening, half an hour before closing.

It’s snowing hard outside. As is evidenced by the light layer of snow dusting the top of Minho’s hat and the shoulders of his coat. He looks a little more worn down than Hyunjin is used to seeing him. He sports a pair of glasses Hyunjin’s never seen him wear before and his eyes look a little red-rimmed through the thick lenses, like he’s quite tired. Minho peels out of his gloves, shoves them in his pocket and rubs his hands together for warmth. His face is very pink from the chill outside and Hyunjin wants nothing more than to wrap the man up in his arms and hold him against his chest until the cold leaves his bones.

It kind of hurts how much he wants that.

“Can I get my usual,” Minho asks once he gets up to the counter.

“Certainly,” Hyunjin says. He finds himself chuckling at the erratic way Minho’s teeth chatter. Even in moments like this, when he’s threadbare and worn like an old comfort blanket, Minho is handsome. “Are you doing alright tonight?”

“I’ve had easier days,” Minho tells him. Then his eyes settle on Hyunjin’s grinning face for the first time since he’s walked in. “But I feel much better now.”

Hyunjin turns to the machines and prepares Minho’s drink: espresso and chocolate and steamed milk and extra cream. He turns his attention to the shop door as it swings open, as the bells overhead jingle and jangle, as a frigid gust of December win howls inside. It’s Jeongin and he’s covered in fresh snow like he’s just made a snow angel. He’s shivering. His nose is so red that Hyunjin can see it from across the store like he’s a certain reindeer. Hyunjin glances over his shoulder to see if Seungmin notices, because Seungmin always notices, but Seungmin only has his eyes on Hyunjin, even as he counts out Minho’s change and hands it back to him.

Oh, Seungmin’s up to something. But Hyunjin can’t spare the attention to figure out what it is. 

Done with the drink’s base, Hyunjin goes to his shelf of ingredients and lets his eyes wander from jar to jar until he  _ feels _ the right things to use. He shakes in a pinch or two of refined hope, drops in a few plucked reindeer eyebrows (they’re edible and quite fibrous), chops up a few mistletoe leaves and then tops everything off with a generous helping of walnuts (finely ground into a soft powder by Nutcrackers.) Hyunjin gives it all a good stir and then turns to find a properly-sized lid.

“What do these ingredients do,” Minho asks.

Hyunjin appreciates his genuine curiosity. The almost childish levels to which he believes. “The hope is to relieve stress,” he states. “And the reindeer eyebrows keep you from getting lost.” He finds the right sized lid and carefully snaps it over Minho’s drink. Then he slides it into the cupsleeve and pushes the drink across the counter.

Minho reaches out. He grabs hold of the cup. Their fingers brush. “I saw you put in mistletoe. What does that do?” He lifts the cup to his mouth.

Seungmin pipes up. “It gives you the courage to confess to the one you like.”

Minho coughs up what he’s just swallowed.

Hyunjin spins and glares at Seungmin. Sure, mistletoe is used for kissing rituals, but it doesn’t have such a romantic effect when consumed. And Seungmin  _ knows _ that! They’ve gone through this. Hyunjin starts, “Actually—”

Seungmin steps on Hyunjin’s foot. And there’s no way it is by accident. So  _ this _ is what he’s up to tonight. Then Hyunjin understands. Lying about the mistletoe is Seungmin’s way of ‘helping.’ Although how it will actually help has yet to be seen.

Minho regains his composure. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “Thanks,” he chokes out, holding up the cup. And instead of turning and leaving like he usually does, he finds a small table not too far from the counter and eases himself down onto the stool. He stares at the cup in his hands for several long moments, like he’s never tasted hot coffee before, then he finally lifts the beverage to his lips and takes a sip.

“You’ll thank me,” Seungmin mumbles into his ear. Then, confidently, as if Jeongin’s presence in the shop never made him break out into a nervous sweat every day for the last several months, Seungmin props his elbows up on the counter and proceeds to take Jeongin’s order without stuttering a single time.

Five minutes before closing, when Hyunjin starts cleaning out all of the machines, Minho approaches the counter with a strained, pensive expression.

Hyunjin tilts his head. “Hey, Minho. What’s up?”

“I think something’s wrong with my drink,” Minho mumbles. He glances around as if to make sure no one’s paying too much attention to him. He leans over the counter and whispers, “I don’t think it’s working.”

“Not working,” Hyunjin repeats lamely. He’s never had a customer say that before. “What’s it not doing?”

Minho says, “I don’t think it’s giving me the courage to tell you I like you.”

Hyunjin nearly drops the tray he’s holding.

It takes a few moments but Minho realizes what it is that he’s just said. His eyes go wide. His face goes as red as a poinsettia. He looks like he’s half a breath away from turning and making a run for the door but Hyunjin reaches out and grabs Minho by the wrist before he can move.

“That’s good,” Hyunjin announces.

Minho’s mouth opens and closes with words he cannot say before he repeats, “Good?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin tells him. “Because now I’ve got the courage to tell you that I like you.”

Minho smiles. And it’s beautiful and blinding like the sun but Hyunjin stares directly into it. The sight of it makes his face heat up, makes his belly fill with butterflies, makes his pulse rush. 

Hyunjin starts to let go of Minho’s wrist but, smooth as ice, Minho chases after Hyunjin’s hand and manages to lace their fingers together. “Well,” Minho teases, “are you going to tell me?”

And his boldness makes Hyunjin giggle. “Maybe I’ll give you a confession as a Christmas present.”

Now it’s Minho’s turn to laugh. “Maybe I’ll give you mine right here, right now.” Then he leans up on his tiptoes and presses a featherlight kiss to Hyunjin’s cheek.

_ Because of the mistletoe in the drink _ , Hyunjin thinks, even though he knows that’s not how the magic works.

It’s Christmas Magic, after all. It doesn’t always have to make sense as long as it feels right.


End file.
